Witch-Slapped
by C.F.Broome
Summary: Mr. Rochester's recent standoffish behaviour has perplexed Jane and the rest of Thornfield Hall. The mystery is finally unveiled after Edward requests an audience with Jane in his office. Will Jane let her shame overshadow her desires or will she give into temptation? Rochester x Jane M rated.


Though time spent with him was rather scarce, I felt that I knew my master's character fairly well. His disposition was, even for the short months I had worked at Thornfield Hall, predictably nonchalant and measured in regards to most events. However, as the weather grew more bitter and the nights extended further into the next day, I recall noticing that Mr Rochester's humour was following suit. It was not uncommon for him to lose his temper occasionally with the staff or, indeed, with little Adèle if ever she would leave her watercolours out on the parlour rug for pilot to disturb but this recent level of impatience was something that we were all unaccustomed to.

He would find fault with the slightest element of cook's dishes, berate Grace for leaving even one item of silverware unpolished and many a night did I spend trying to muffle the commotion that my master would cause with Mrs. Fairfax over the upkeep of the

it was me with which he appeared to hold the most antipathy towards during these cold Autumn days, the icy tendrils of frost spreading across the window panes in concurrence with his growing choler.

Mr Rochester, harbouring the almost aloof quality that he always did, failed to surprise me when he first started to overlook me. I daresay I did not even apprehend it at first when he no longer inquired to appraise my sketches and failed to take his evening meals in the company of Adèle and myself. As the weeks went on, however, I began to notice him routinely and purposefully avoiding my presence and when he did seek my company,it was only to chastise me about the way I was teaching Adèle. Furthermore, during those conversations there existed a look in his eyes that was unlike anything I had ever seen before; I took it to be anger though I was perplexed as to what I was doing to cause so much acrimony.

Reader, it would be a work of fiction on my part to attest that my master's standoffish attitude did not cause a growing feeling of inadequacy to boil within me. Not only that, but I was beginning to feel very lonely with just me and Adèle roaming the gloomy corridors day after day. I am not, of course, attempting to allude to the idea that I missed Mr Rochester's presence or the way the corner of his mouth twitched slightly when he observed Pilot pursuing the falling leaves through the shady paths towards to woods but, I digress.

It was during one particularly stormy afternoon when Grace entered the library where I was reading on the chaise and expressed to me that my master see me at once. Adèle looked up at me from the rug and widened her eyes. She really was such a perceptive child and, just like everybody else at Thornfield, had picked up on Mr Rochester's change in mood.

"I will return presently, I'm sure" I told her as I placed the volume down.

"Oui mademoiselle Eyre, à bientôt!" she replied with that uniquely optimistic burst of energy that forever lingered in her wake.

My footsteps echoed throughout the vast expanse of the barren halls. Devoid of any human presence, they seemed to encroach on me as I walked towards my fate. Surely Mr Rochester had no bounds to hold anger towards me, Adèle's progress in English had certainly increased rapidly over the previous months and I always maintained a high level of courtesy, even with the other staff. I decided that if my master saw fit to tell me off, my passionate nature would simply force me to protest. After all, was it not him who caused a dense mist of discomfort to settle upon the household due to his recent temperament?

My personal promise of bravery notwithstanding, I was not at all surprised when the steady rhythm in my chest increased to a tattoo which, despite all my efforts, I could not quell. It felt wrong somehow to break the perfect silence which permeated the entire house and this thought was what kept kept me rooted to the floor outside my master's study.

My quivering hand, so starkly white against the polished mahogany, was drawn to the door of the chamber almost against my will. Like a bullet through glass, the knock destroyed the tranquility that cloaked me into infinite coruscating shards.

"Enter" barked a voice.

Any hope that this was to be a genial meeting was shattered along with any little remaining confidence in my reasoning abilities.

When I stepped over the threshold between calm and the storm, I attempted to make my movements as quiet and non-confrontational as I could; there was no telling what could anger him. Cloaked in the shadows, I warily raised my head to meet his eyes yet found him paying no attention to me, instead penning a letter on his desk and so I remained silent and waited for the storm. Would I be fired? Was he going to demote me to a humble servant? A constant barrage of these unpleasant thoughts swirled through my head and I could feel panic rising in my chest.

Mr Rochester placed his quill before him which made me swiftly abandon my trance and grow rigid. My eyes widened as I surveyed my employer and without looking up, he muttered "I suppose you know why I summoned you here". His voice was low and had a knife sharp edge, there was also something else I could not place that danced, or should I say, stalked, through his words.

I took an unsteady breath "No, sir. I have no id…"

"Liar" He hissed quietly through his teeth.

Completely confounded and annoyed in equal measure, I dared to question him. "I am sorry, sir, truly but I am blind to any sin that I apparently committed to make you so angry" I said with barely restrained vexation in my voice.

"Oh, I think you know exactly what you're doing" he chuckled bitterly as he finally met my eyes, his look was full of fire and intensity and practically caused me to take a step back towards the door in fear. "Come here" he commanded suddenly, acid seething from his words and poisoning the room.

All my unfortunate encounters with Mrs Reed, every caning I received at Lowood and each beating at the hands of my tyrannical cousin couldn't possibly encroach on the level of fear that I felt at that moment. I took a tentative step towards my master and, seeing that his eyes were still fixated on mine, continued to his desk. He afforded me an unrelenting glare and rose to his feet when I reached him; my heart skipped and I forced myself to hold my ground. I refused to give him even the slightest impression that he indeed had the power to strike terror into my very being. The air surrounding me became almost tangibly heavy, I was finding it rather difficult to draw breath.

Wanting to break the silence, I spoke "I don't think it is proper to treat me as though I were a criminal when I have not done anything wrong".

His eyes flashed with anger as he growled "You have bewitched me, Jane. Do not deny it".

Completely bewildered, I felt a surge of anger grow within me and, keeping my voice relatively balanced I said "I must deny it, sir, for I haven't the faintest idea what you are asserting".

I regarded my master's visage and saw, within a matter of mere seconds, his entire face contort into a mask of rage; his nostrils flared, his brow furrowed and the corner of his mouth twitched with restrained fury. Before I could gather my thoughts and decide my next move, he growled and gripped my narrow shoulders to roughly push me onto the desk. His powerful hands pinned my arms behind my back while he used his body weight to prevent me from rising. My nose inches away from the rosewood desk, I seethed in anger- what gall he had! My entire frame was shaking with fear-what would he do to me? What was causing him to act in such a way? Though I was scared, I could not ignore the way his imposing frame was so close to my own, the thought that another heartbeat was beating alongside mine like a sort of symphony. Soon, my pulse quickened for a very different reason than simple fear.

"You posses powers unknown to this world, wicked enchantments that cause a man to question his own sanity". He continued his tirade "You force your way into my mind day and night and feed me lurid images of desire which I have no power over".

His voice was low and

his breaths rapid, I could feel the heat emanating from him as he leaned over me, retaining total control over my body. I was beginning to understand his meaning yet scarcely wanted to believe it; was he suggesting that I had seduced him in some way?

"Sir, please" I breathed "You're hurting me".

"Oh, I'm sorry" he replied mockingly and pushed me down harder onto the desk, wedging his frame against my own and causing me to whimper in pain like an injured animal. He slowly brought his lips to my ear and whispered "better?".

His hot breath caused a shiver to travel down my spine and my head to spin; I had to stop myself from collapsing onto the table.

"Maybe you will think twice about casting one of your little spells next time" he told me viciously while he dragged me to my feet and pushed me over his knee.

I struggled against him in vain but refused to allow him to think I had given up, I wanted to let him know he could not simply make me bend to his will whenever he wished. Eventually, I ceased my struggling when I found my gaze fixed on the wooden floor, I knew if I allowed him to continue he would be less likely to lengthen my (completely unjust) punishment. After a brief pause in which we both caught our breath, his hands found mine and bound my wrists skillfully with what felt like a scrap of cloth-how brazen!

"Sir, what are you doing? this is quite uncalled f…" I began, completely irate.

"You need to learn some discipline, I think you will come to agree in due time" he responded while tightening my bonds. "Fifteen will do for a start, I should think. Don't you even think about making a sound because I assure you, you will come to regret it, witch" he hissed in my ear as he roughly pulled up my nightgown.

I began to panic, electricity ran through my veins filling my body with a static charge, every sensation was heightened to almost supernatural levels, I felt as though I could pick up on the slightest vibrational change in the room.

 _Slap_ The first hit roused me instantly from my almost meditative trance and shocked me into a harsh and very painful reality. "You are to count every single one, do you understand me, Jane?" Reluctantly, I nodded and braced myself for the next impact. It soon came and although I was fully accepting of my fate's incontrovertibility on this occasion, it did not stop the bitter sting from being any less excruciating, in more ways than one. Up until now, I considered my work as Thornfield's governess to be more than adequate. I would even have said I had developed a fairly close bond with my employer (for a man of Mr Rochester's temperament) and almost considered myself at harmony with the rest of the house.

I whimpered pitifully as my master wound his fingers in my hair and pulled my head backwards to meet his words of reprimand "I could have sworn I told you to count" he growled dangerously.

"Two" I muttered through my teeth.

His palm came down once again "Good girl".

The slaps rained down unrelentingly and it was becoming harder to remain silent, my resilience crumbled and I let out a pathetic sounding groan. He did not speak but instead increased the intensity of his strikes, leaving me less time to recover between each one. Try as I might, I could not stop my eyes from blurring, I must not cry I told myself. I refused to give him the satisfaction and, moreover, enrage him further. My tears nearly blinded me at this point (I believe it was around number nine) and were threatening to spill onto my cheeks. Even more alarming, however, was the introduction of a sudden heat blooming between my thighs. It was as if an unseen force was taking over my body, the white hot burning on my tender flesh was not, by any means, diminished but rather seemed trivial in comparison to this more pressing problem. I was beginning to feel very hot and wondered if my master could feel the heat radiating from my body as my treacherous frame began to squirm on his lap.

"Eleven" I cried, barely suppressing a moan.

The tears were now flowing freely and plentifully down my cheeks, scalding my flushed skin like molten lead. The steady tattoo they were creating on the floor was like a sort of bizarre clock, counting down each miserable second remaining until what was left of my feeble resistance evaporated. Never before in my life had I ever felt so defeated, what was left of my pride? I was completely at the mercy of my employer and what was worse, if I even had the opportunity to escape I was not completely sure I would have taken the liberty. As frustrated and disheartened as I was, I could not deny to myself the foreign feeling this situation was affording me.

I felt as though my own body was separate to my consciousness, the common sense left in my mind was imploring my traitorous frame to ignore the wicked sensations my master was inflicting upon me while the gradually increasing ache in my core was advising me otherwise. Every minute movement I made of my hips upon Mr Rochester's lap was pure torture, even the slightest iota of friction near my centre sent a surge of electricity raging through my every nerve ending; I tried to cease my movement completely. This was no easy feat to maintain through the last of my master's unrelenting strikes.

"Not struggling anymore, are we Jane?" he whispered before administering one final blow to my abused flesh.

Dutifully and with a shuddering breath I sobbed "fifteen".

"Excellent" he murmured softly as his hand trailed across my buttocks with the feather-light touch of a careful artist- my entire frame automatically stiffened as I held my breath in sheer terror and anticipation. His fingers edged ever so slowly to the now blistering heat boiling between my thighs which, much to my chagrin, was aching for his touch. As soon as the contact was made I emitted a sudden and very undignified yelp to which he responded by clapping his hand to my mouth to muffle the sound.

"Careful, Jane" he warned dangerously as he continued his torturous exploration of my silken petals while my chest heaved uncontrollably and my frame shock with forbidden desire. All of a sudden, he stopped and began tutting.

"Well" he said mockingly, "my little punishment seems to have had quite the opposite effect". I could almost feel myself sinking into a bottomless well of shame as the proof of my wanton yearning liberally coated my master's digits. "Jane, look at me" he commanded. With fresh tears blurring my vision, I strained my neck to look up at him and was greeted by a condescending smirk which made me feel even more powerless and caused my stomach to lurch upwards violently. His hands dropped to my wrists and untied them with the nimble fingers of a tailor.

"Get up" he demanded, his voice calm but commanding.

I tried to rise but my knees gave way and I crumpled ungracefully to the floor with a loud thud. Mr Rochester seized my shoulders and marched my weak and shaking figure towards his desk where he laid me upon my back.

"Sir" I began weakly, "Please, this is so wrong, we shouldn't be doing th…" My half-hearted protests were swiftly forgotten when his hands began to gently caress my inner thighs and move towards the tropical wetness pooling in my core.

"I want you to look at me while I'm doing this. Tell me you want it, admit it." After a brief pause, he chuckled darkly You can't help it, can you?"

How dare he! I was not going to be intimidated into feeding his ego, I would not descend to that level. I gazed into his eyes with my brow set in a manner which I'm adamant sent out a contrasting message in comparison with my heaving bosom. His clever ministrations quickly started to destroy my defences and the lust radiating from his dark eyes was telling me to give up my fruitless and quite frankly, childish protests and beg him to do what he pleased with me.

"Sir" I began, my eyes dropping and my voice barely a whisper, "Please can you…" my voice trailed off in shame as I moaned pitifully.

"Excuse me?"

"Please" I sobbed in despair, my eyes wide and pleading.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to speak u…"

" _Sir, just take me, please!_ " I almost screamed in frustration.

"Well, why didn't you say so?" he asked with another of his devious smirks as he swifty plunged his throbbing manhood into my dripping, quivering channel.

I screwed my eyes shut tightly and buried my face into his neck to muffle my screams that were caused by the blinding pain ripping through my body, my tears soaking his shirt as he continued his powerful thrusts. Through the pain, my previous pleasure was arising once again and I started to enjoy the illicit sensations coursing through me; I could no longer hold back my moans. This seemed to spur him on because shortly afterwards he gripped my ankles and threw them over his shoulders with a growl. After this, I simply couldn't see how I could go on much longer, I let my body win the war and gave in. I whimpered and my muscles clenched involuntarily around his swollen member as I let myself fall into the abyss like a wrecked ship in a maelstrom.

"Oh! Oh, sir I'm… I... Oh God!"

He was breathing heavily in my ear now "harlot" he grunted contemptuously as the last of his energy evaporated and his white hot seed spilt inside me.

Spent and contented, I was certainly not objecting when the warm veil of sleep descended upon me as I lay beneath my master, my nose nuzzling into the dark hair at the nape of his neck. My comfortable illusion was shattered, however, when he lifted himself off me and began to rearrange his paperwork without meeting my eyes. I felt passion rise within me and refused to believe what was happening.

"Sir" I said in disbelief.

"Yes, Jane?" he asked without interest, still averting my gaze.

"Sir" I repeated again, my throat tightening.

"You can leave now"

"Excuse me?" I hissed.

"Go to bed" he commanded now looking into my eyes. I stalked furiously to the doorway before I said something that would surely get me fired.

"After all" he called before I grasped the handle, "you'll need your strength for tomorrow night".


End file.
